


When You're a Boy

by greedy_dancer



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: First Time, M/M, Makeup, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedy_dancer/pseuds/greedy_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Gerard's a pretty great dude, Frank's learnt this summer, but there's a difference between indulging your little brother's friend's weirdness, and not batting an eye at his, his, his... thing. </i>Kink<i>, Frank's brain supplies, but he shuts it up. Kink is for old people and internet porn, not actual seventeen-year-olds, he's pretty sure. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	When You're a Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the [amazing VMAs Virgins interview](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Ld90qmh7yQ), and [the not!ficcing that followed](http://mistresscurvy.livejournal.com/48339.html?thread=549331#t549331), I give you teenage Frank/Gerard fumbling with sex and make-up. Beta-ed by Were_Duck. Title from Bowie, obviously.

This, Frank thinks, is the moment it all goes wrong.

“What?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant. He knows it's a failed attempt; his face feels hot already. Fuck.

Gerard looks up from the last drawer in Frank's desk, where he was looking for who knows what. Certainly not Frank's stash of eyeliner pencils and eye shadow palettes and lipstick tubes, though.

Maybe Frank should go back to Walmart and nick the case he saw the other day. It has _flowers_ on it, though. Ugh.

Gerard still hasn't said anything. He just keeps looking at Frank with this weird look on his face, scratching at his neck where the red dye has left streaks.

Gerard's a pretty great dude, Frank's learnt this summer, but there's a difference between indulging your little brother's friend's weirdness, and not batting an eye at his, his, his... thing. _Kink_ , Frank's brain supplies, but he shuts it up. Kink is for old people and Internet porn, not actual seventeen-year-olds, he's pretty sure.

If this is the moment the other shoe drops on Gerard's awesomeness, Frank wants it over with so he can nurse his humiliation ( _and his broken heart_ , his traitorous brain adds) and get on with his fucking life. Frank's not very good at waiting. He doesn't think Gerard would _do_ anything to him, not in million years, but he might make a couple of douchey jokes. And tell Mikey, probably, and that's just perfect, right, there go his crush _and_ his best friend at the same time, awesome.

“What, Gerard?” Frank asks again after a few more seconds of tense silence, and Gerard finally looks like he's going to say something, but of course just at that moment Mikey barges back into the room and flops down onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, and Gerard closes the drawer without a word. He doesn't tell Mikey, but he makes his excuses pretty quickly, and there's no way Frank actually believes he's got stuff to do for school. School doesn't even start for three more weeks.

*

Frank's bored. He's so, so, soooo bored, and his mom took his amp chord away after the last time Mrs. Giardelli called to complain about the noise, and he already took a nap and jerked off twice and checked his email five times so now he's just wandering aimlessly around the house, eating cookies and tracking crumbs everywhere. He'll have to vacuum before his mom comes back.

He's thinking about calling Mikey, maybe, but he hasn't seen the Way brothers since the make-up incident and for the first time this summer, he's not too keen on hanging out with them.

He's considering braving the heat and taking his bike for a ride around the block when the doorbell rings, and when he opens it, it's Gerard. Of course it's Gerard, of fucking course.

“Mikey's not here,” Frank says, not bothering with “Hi”.

“Um, yeah, I know, he's working,” Gerard says, sounding confused. “Can I come in?”

Frank takes a step back and lets Gerard in. He closes the door, taking a second to breathe and freak out a little bit before he joins Gerard in the living room. Gerard's standing in the middle of the room like he's waiting for something. Frank has no idea what's going on.

“Cookie?” he asks, offering Gerard the half-empty box.

“Um, no, thanks,” Gerard says. Then, quickly: “Can we go up to your room?”

Frank hesitates a little, wondering what Gerard is up to. It's not really like him to show up alone and unannounced. Gerard looks nervous, though. Frank's hands are sweaty. “Sure,” he says, and leads the way up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Gerard sits down carefully on the edge of Frank's bed. Frank doesn't really want to sit next to him, so he goes to lean on his desk. Gerard's still just sitting there, but his eyes follow Frank and then, for just a second, dart to the last drawer. Frank's heart skips a beat and he jumps away, fishing for something to say so he can distract Gerard, maybe, bring their relationship back to a non-makeup place.

“It was my girlfriend's,” is what Frank says, and yeah, well done changing the subject there. Fucking hell.

“Um, what?” Gerard asks.

“The, uh. You know. The, the make-up. That you saw?” Frank stutters, feeling his face flush. “It was my girlfriend's.”

It's not even a lie, not completely. She'd been the one to start it, in a way, that day she'd put some on him as a joke. And then, after she'd broken it off, Frank had found a tiny nub of blue eyeliner pencil under his bed, and he'd used it, and kept it, even though it wasn't really his color. Not that he'd known that then.

So it's not a lie. It's weak, but it's all there is. “It's eyeliner for the scene” would explain maybe one or two sticks of black, not five, in different colors; and certainly not the eye-shadow and mascara and lipstick.

For once in his life, Frank just shuts up and waits.

Gerard is looking at him carefully, biting his lower lip a little. He scratches at the back of his neck, clears his throat, and then says: “One day I stole my mom's lipstick.”

Frank takes in a careful breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says. “It was just lying there, you know? I didn't mean to use it. But then I did.”

“What did you... Did you like it?” Frank asks, barely believing his own daring.

“Yeah,” Gerard says, barely more than a breath. “I liked it, Frankie. I like it.”

He's looking straight at Frank, eyes huge, and Frank's chest feels really weird when he takes a step forward.

“I like it too,” he says, because if Gerard can be that brave, so can he. “I like how it makes me look.”

“I like how it makes me feel,” Gerard rasps, and Frank takes another step forward. His room's not that big, and Gerard's almost within arms' reach.

Frank wipes his clammy hands on his jeans. His head is swimming with red-hot thoughts of Gerard in make-up and giddy thoughts of _it's happening!!!_ , all the tension of the summer finally reaching its climax.

Another step, and Frank's knees are bumping into Gerard's, and Frank's about to bend down and try and kiss him when Gerard says “Wait, Frank, wait...” and Frank thinks if it turns out Gerard's just here to talk about make-up, Frank will explode.

“Gee,” he starts, but Gerard interrupts, whispers, barely audible: “Will you... I mean, do you want to... Can you, Frank, can you show me?”

For a second Frank thinks Gerard is asking him to get naked, and well, it's not like he's against that happening at some point but maybe not before they've even kissed? He's about to tell Gerard so but Gee's looking away from him, back to the... oh.

The drawer. Oh.

“You want to see?” he asks, even though it's obvious from Gerard's question and Gerard nods frantically, one hand coming to grip the back of Frank's leg. Frank's getting hard fast. He really hopes they're on the same page here. “Okay,” he says.

 _This is not normal_ , Frank's brain screams, _this is not how two dudes should get together_ , but Frank doesn't care so much about his brain these days. He goes over to the desk, sits on the wobbly chair, rearranges his dick in his jeans, opens the drawer.

He takes out the little mirror and props it up against a pile of books. He picks his favorite eyeliner pencil, the one that's greasy and soft and just blunt enough, and his best mascara and his favorite eye-shadow – the light grey one with flecks of glitter. The internet said purple was best for green eyes but Frank's drawing the line at purple. Not for the first time, anyway.

God, he really hopes this is a first time.

He looks at Gerard, still sitting there on the edge of Frank's narrow bed, and it looks like Gerard's hard in his jeans, too. Hard to tell with the baggy cut Gerard favors. Frank sets to work, using a brush to apply eye shadow on each of his eyelids. Not too much, and he smudges it with his fingers a little, wiping them on his jeans afterwards, leaving trails of glitter on the denim.

The eyeliner is next, and Frank does the left eye easily, chuckling when he catches his reflection in the mirror, mouth slack and open. His eye starts to water when he traces the pencil along the inner edge of his lower eyelid, and he resist the urge to rub at it. He doesn't want to smear it.

The other eye is always harder, because by then everything is kind of blurry. Frank says so and Gerard says “I know, right?” and then there's a shuffling noise and a hand on Frank's shoulder. “I could do it for you, if you wanted,” Gerard says, voice soft and warm and so close to Frank he has to grip the edge of his seat.

He still swivels around and leans back in the chair, closing his eyes. “Do it,” he says.

He hears Gerard grab the pencil and shuffle around some more, going “Wait, wait, I think...” until he just climbs on top of Frank, knees on either side of Frank's thighs on the chair, and tips Frank's head back. His hands are soft and warm on Frank's face.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Gerard says, and then “Tell me if I'm hurting you”.

Frank feels the pressure of the pencil against his eye and Gerard's warm breath on his face and this is so different from that first time, when Natalie insisted on putting make-up on him. It had been vaguely ridiculous, and then totally embarrassing, because he'd liked it so much and that hadn't really been the plan.

The only thing Frank feels right now is the overwhelming need to grab Gerard and rub against him until he comes. Gerard's dabbing at the corner of his eye. Frank's hands tighten on the armrests.

“Open,” Gerard whispers, and he's all blurry now. Frank follows Gerard's instructions and looks up and away, trying not to flinch when Gerard does the lower eyelid.

Gerard does the mascara then, scraping the brush against the lip of the tube to take off the excess, then dragging it through Frank's eyelashes. He's meticulous, obviously practiced, and the thought makes Frank shiver. He blinks a couple of times despite himself – his eyelashes always feel heavier like this – and Gerard clucks softly, drawing back to admire his handiwork, lips pursed.

“There,” Gerard says, screwing the mascara shut. “You have lipstick?”

Frank bends to grab one at random in the drawer and hands it to Gerard, who uncaps it with a pop, shifting slightly on top of Frank. The chair creaks. Frank puts his hands on Gerard's hips to steady him as Gerard leans back and starts applying the color to Frank's lips, dragging it in short, precise strokes. This is the deep red one, Frank thinks. His lips feel warm and tingly.

Gerard uses his finger to wipe at the corner of Frank's mouth when he's done, where Frank always gets red on the skin, too, then puts the cap back on the tube and sets it down on the desk.

Frank feels like he can maybe start breathing again.

And then Gerard licks Frank's mouth.

“Ugh,” Frank grunts, and Gerard licks again, right across Frank's lips, and Frank finally gets with the program. He drags his hands up Gerard's sides and presses forward until Gerard's basically sitting on Frank's thighs, front pressed all along Frank's chest, and fuck yeah, that's Gerard's dick pressing against Frank's stomach.

Frank opens his mouth and seeks out Gerard's, rubbing their lips together, smearing red all over him, relishing the way his lips glide against Gerard's slightly prickly skin. He licks all around Gerard's mouth and Gerard licks back, and their tongues tangle and their teeth clash, and Gerard's thrusting just a tiny bit against Frank, gentle little shoves of his hips into Frank's belly, and it finally drops that they're having sex, this is _sex_ , and Frank basically overheats.

He bucks up, hip frantically seeking something to rub against, and when he comes into contact with Gerard's ass it's like his whole body seizes up. His arms lock around Gerard's back and he clenches his eyes shut, draws in a huge breath, thrusts, once, twice, and floods his jeans with wet warmth. He feels like his brain is fizzing.

Frank pants, letting his head drop back against the back of the chair, trying to catch his breath and maybe apologize for how fast that was, but Gerard's not making it easy, pressing open mouth kisses against Frank's neck and still rocking against him. He's talking, too, curses and “Frankie” and “So pretty” and “So fucking hot.”

Frank runs his hands up and down Gerard's thighs and Gerard moans, bites down on Frank's neck, starts sucking. _No marks no marks no marks_ , Frank's brain supplies, because his mom may be oblivious but she's not blind, and he jerks away, tries to get out of reach of Gerard, but Gerard follows, and this is when the chair's finally had enough and gives up, dumping them both onto the floor.

Frank wants to laugh, but when he looks over at Gerard Gerard is looking at him, eyes huge, red all over his face, hand rubbing at his crotch.

Frank's mouth floods with saliva.

He's thought about blowjobs a lot, obviously, but he's never really had the urge to put his mouth on someone's dick in real life. Until now. Now it's all he can think about, finding out what Gerard looks like, what he tastes like, what he feels like in Frank's mouth. How Gerard's dick would look with lipstick smeared on it.

Frank's thoughts must be all over his face because Gerard moans, a long, drawn-out sound like he's already being sucked, and Frank's own dick gives a twitch in his disgusting, damp underwear.

“Yeah, come on, come on,” Gerard says as he scrambles with his belt and jeans, and in what feels like three seconds flat, Frank's face-to-face with his first dick. Well, he tried to suck his own once, who hasn't, but he never got this close.

He's so close he can smell it, so close he can see every vein and every hair and the moisture that glistens at the top.

Gerard's hand rests on Frank's neck, just stroking the skin there, and he says “Frankie, it's okay, you don't have to...” but that's totally not it, Frank isn't having second thoughts, he's just savoring the moment or whatever, and now he's done and he leans forward and licks at the tip of Gerard's dick. It's... hard to describe, the taste, but it's definitely not bad, so Frank does it again.

Gerard goes “Nnnnngh!” and his hand tightens on Frank's neck. Frank licks a little more, chasing the moisture, getting used to it, the texture and the taste and the _idea_ , and then he licks his lips and remembers – lipstick. Oh fuck yeah, _fuck yeah_ , he wants to put red all over Gerard's dick and he doesn't fucking care if that makes him officially kinky.

He drags his closed lips up the side of Gerard's dick and the down the other side, and Gerard must catch onto what he's doing because he grips Frank's hair almost too hard and pants, “Yes, yeah, oh fuck, you're...” and his hips start rolling up, not quite thrusting. Rubbing himself against Frank's mouth, maybe. He's leaking a lot more now, and Frank's getting it all over his face, not just his mouth but his cheeks, the side of his nose when he bumps against it, and Frank's still leaving red streaks all over Gerard's dick. He's hard again himself, chafing uncomfortably in his sticky pants, and he grabs himself while he opens his mouth, taking Gerard in as deep as he dares.

It's not very deep, he doesn't think, but it must be enough for Gerard, because when Frank tries sucking, he starts making these soft, high-pitched noises, like “Ah, ah, ah,” nothing like Frank's ever heard in porn, and he starts bucking up into Frank's mouth, hard enough to make him choke and draw back.

Frank's eyes water and he's probably going to have black tear stains all over his cheeks, but it doesn't matter now. All that matters is Gerard, who's still moaning and thrusting mindlessly into empty air, and Frank takes pity on him and puts his mouth back around his dick, trying to stroke with his tongue like he read about, bringing the hand that's not gripping his own dick to Gerard's balls. Gerard goes very still, and then shakes, and with a half-yelled “Fuck!” he starts spurting into Frank's mouth.

There's a second when Frank has no idea what's happening to him and then he pulls himself together enough to draw back, swallowing his mouthful because what else is he gonna do? And yeah, not a fan of the taste. It's all forgotten in a flash, though, when he goes to put his hand on Gerard's dick and bumps into Gerard's own hand, already there, and together they stroke Gerard through the rest of his orgasm, Gerard's hand tight on top of Frank's, sliding through the mix of Gerard's come and Frank's saliva and lipstick.

It's pretty much the best thing that's ever happened to Frank, ever, better than the end of school, better than getting his new guitar. Gerard's spread out on the floor of Frank's bedroom looking _wrecked_ , with his dick hanging out of his barely-open pants, come everywhere, red all over his crotch and face. Frank takes a moment to appreciate the sight before his dick reminds him that he needs to come again.

He'd really love for Gerard to return the favor but he looks pretty out of it, so Frank crawls on top of him, intending to take his time and explore a little more. He slides his hand, filthy with Gerard's come, under Gerard's shirt, feeling all the smooth skin there, and straddles Gerard's thigh, rubbing against him. Gerard's arms kind of flop around him and Frank comes like that, rutting against Gerard, mouth open against Gerard's neck, getting drool and lipstick everywhere.

*

It takes a while for Frank to be able to move, but once the feeling comes back into his limbs and the fuzz clears from his brain, he helps Gerard up and pushes him onto the bed.

He goes to the desk – ew ew ew, he really needs to change his pants - and grabs the packet of wipes from the bottom drawer. He throws them on the bed and watches as Gerard grabs a couple and kind of draws them across his crotch. That can't have been very effective, Frank thinks, but Gerard tucks himself back in all the same.

Frank quickly changes out of his come-covered clothes and puts on sweatpants and a clean shirt before he climbs onto the bed.

His mom's going to be home in less than an hour. He needs to wipe his face, air out the room and start a load of laundry.

First things first, though. “Come here,” he tells Gerard, and starts wiping around his mouth, trying to get the lipstick off. Gerard looks kind of like a demented clown at the moment, crazy red hair and huge red smile. A porno version of a clown. Frank wonders idly if there's clown porn out there. He's pretty sure there must be.

Gerard licks his lips and grimaces at the taste, his nose scrunching up hilariously, making Frank giggle. He can't believe this is the same Gerard whose dick was just in his mouth, even though the evidence is still all over Frank's face. And in the weird taste in Frank's mouth. The thought sends a thrill down Frank's spine, and he makes a note to brush his teeth before his mom comes back, too.

He cleans his face as best he can, Gerard making sad noises at first, then pointing out spots he missed and making jokes about Frank looking like The Joker – _is there Joker porn out there?_ Frank's brain asks – and finally they're both make-up and come free and making out on Frank's bed.

It's almost chaste, a weird contrast to what they were doing ten minutes ago, like they did things in reverse, maybe. Filthy, kinky sex first, sweet makeouts after. Frank's totally okay with that, though. He's never had too much respect for the rules.

He's resting his head on Gerard's shoulder, his fingers playing with Gerard's fingers, when Gerard asks: “So, how did you start?”

Frank should be past being shy with Gerard now. He still feels himself flush as he says, “Ugh, it's so creepy, you don't wanna know.”

He feels Gerard's chuckle in his chest, but Gerard remains silent, just keeps brushing his fingers through Frank's. Frank takes a breath. “Um, my ex girlfriend put it on me?” he says, hating how it sounds like a question. What is he, a Valley Girl?

“That's not creepy,” Gerard says, but Frank continues. “Yeah, it was. She thought it would be funny, you know? But I didn't find it funny. At all. I kind of got... really hard, actually, and I had to go rub one out in the bathroom.” He hides his face into Gerard's armpit for the last part, “I'm pretty sure her mom got onto what I was doing in there, because next thing I know she was barging in the bedroom.”

“Oh. My. God!” Gerard exclaims, sounding a little like a Valley Girl himself. “What happened?”

“She called me a pervert and threw me out, and Natalie broke up with me via text.”

“That sucks, man,” Gerard says. He drags his hand up and down Frank's arm.

“Whatever,” Frank shrugs. “She didn't tell anyone at school, though, so I guess that's something,” he concludes.

“You know I won't tell anyone,” Gerard whispers. “I haven't told Mikey.”

“I know you wouldn't,” Frank says. “I trust you.”

“I trust you too, Frankie,” Gerard says, dropping a kiss on Frank's hair, and Frank's crush grows a billion sizes.

“Hey, you should come over tomorrow,” Gerard says. “You can help with the project.”

“What project?” Frank asks.

“I'm gonna go to school in drag,” Gerard answers proudly, and launches into this long story about getting dumped and wearing his mom's clothes and subverting societal gender roles. “I could use your make-up expertise,” he says finally, looking at Frank with huge, serious eyes.

“I'll bring my stuff,” Frank replies, and Gerard beams at him and squeezes him tight.

Frank squeezes back and settles more comfortably on top of Gerard. Frank's watch tells him there's half an hour left until his mom is back, and his brain lets him know he should try to squeeze as much making out as possible in the interval.

Frank's pretty happy where he is, though. There's three whole more weeks of summer for making out.

*

The end.


End file.
